A cold wind pricks at my face. Winter is coming soon, I can feel it. I continue to walk my way home along the slim piece of sidewalk that I have. Dusty red and yellow leaves crunch under my feet with each step, a distant cry for another dying autumn I think to myself. My dark brown hair flicks every which way as the wind remains to blow harder with each gust. Dust creeps up under my eyelashes, getting into my brown eyes and as I try to blink them away a tear falls. I swipe it away as fast as I possibly can when I hear footsteps heading in my direction.
I love to play this little game called, “Imagine Who.” My mother always tells me that it’s called people watching, but I disagree. “Mary, it isn’t Imagine Who, you’re just looking at people.” She tells me constantly when I ask her to play at a restaurant or while sitting at a bus stop. Or she’ll ask me, “Why do you call it that? You are such a weird child.” Anyways, I love to play it any chance I get. If you could read my mind you would probably think I play it a little bit too much. I play it even as I walk down the street, if you couldn’t already tell. So when I look up I start the game.
He’s at least eighteen. His hair is a shining sandy brown and a smile comes to his face when his electric green eyes look up at to the fall leaves. Freckles play along his nose and cheeks like notes on a music staff. I can only imagine who he is. I’ll never truly know. I bet he likes to play guitar and eat ginger bread on Christmas Eve while his mother reads ‘The Night Before Christmas’ to him and his little sibling. I bet his favorite color is maroon red but he can never wear it without it looking weird because it clashes together with his freckles, but he still enjoys looking at the autumn leaves that come of that color. I bet he will never talk to a girl like me.
My eyes look back up at him to find him staring back at me. Now we are only feet away. Four feet, three feet, two, and then finally one. He stops, right there in front of me for no apparent reason.
“Hi.” He whispers. His voice is deep and reminds me of a warm wool blanket that slowly turns cold yet is able to lullaby you to sleep all the same.
“Hello.” I say back to him and he smiles an outstanding smile.
“You dropped this by my house the other day,” he holds out a blank sheet of paper with a few scribbled notes on it. “Sorry to seem like such a creeper. I just didn’t know if this meant anything to you.” I take the paper and hold it in a tightened fist.
The scribbled letters look familiar to me, and I see that it’s a note me and my friend Erin were passing back and forth. It’s nothing except a little bit of girl drama. To be honest I’m a little embarrassed Mr. Hot Freckles saw it.
“I’m sorry you had to…” I start but then have to clear my throat “…read this.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind reading about Ginny and how she must be on her period according to her major attitude.” He says and I laugh.
“Ah, so I see you like the dramatic comedies.” I nod at him.
“Yes very much so.” He jokes and this time we both laugh. “I’m Lucas.”
“I’m Mary.” I say while holding out a hand. Lucas grips it lightly and shakes once.
“Nice to meet you Mary.” He smiles again. Am I seriously blushing? I can feel it coming, like a slow but sure to pounce wild cat, the red is sneaking to my cheeks. It is here. Dammit, I think to myself as I bite my lip in hope of getting rid of it. The stubborn color doesn’t fade though; it just sticks there as if my cheeks were its open clear canvas.
“Nice to meet you too, Lucas.” I say back to him.

And then something that I’ll never forget happened. Lucas just walked away, with a wave and a smile. It wasn’t like one of those romance movies where they talk about simple nothings that float helplessly into conversations. He didn’t pull one of those, “I’ve loved you from afar.” ordeals or anything of the sort for that matter. He didn’t even say that I was pretty or talk about this terrible turn of weather. Lucas just walked away in the other direction.

The very next day I saw him again at same time of day in the very same weather at the exact corner. Coincidence much?
“Hi Mary.” He said while passing by me like a swift breeze.
“Hi Lucas.” I replied.
It went like this for weeks, us passing by one another and whispering sweet yet simple ‘Hello’s and ‘How are you’s every day. Until the day Lucas stopped in his tracks.
“Hey.” I said as always except this time I stopped along with him.
“Hi.” He said and smiled that magnificent smile, “I was wondering if you wanted to walk with me.”
“Oh, um. I’m not sure I’d have to ask my mom.” I explained to him.
“You don’t have to, I mean, unless you want to. I just…” He raised his arm in the sexiest possible way up behind his head to rustle his hair and I laughed because he was babbling now.
“I want to. I’ll just have to check with my mom first.” I told him and he nodded, smiled, and shut his mouth.
“Mind if I come with?” he asked while following me as I continued my path towards my house.
“Not at all.” I said and to my reply he smiled that gorgeous smile.

My mom had said yes and before I knew it Lucas and I were walking in a neighborhood filled with fall colored trees. Winter had still not come, and the happy trees had enough strength to hold their beautiful leaves.
“Want to know a secret?” he asked after about five silent minutes of walking.
“Sure.”
“Come here.” He said as he held out his hand.
I took it, and that was probably one of the smartest things I have ever done.
Lucas led me behind a gate and into a hidden pathway. Leaves sheltered the ground and trees rose higher than my eyes could reach on either side of us.
“This is usually a small river, but it dries up by the end of the summer and is like this all fall.” Lucas clarified. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Yeah, it really is.” I whispered. Lucas squeezed my hand that I realized he was still holding onto. “So what school do you go to? I have never seen you before in Reno High.”
“I go to Reed. My mom said I should probably finish my last year there.” He tells me as we stroll farther on. “She had some serious problems with my dad. He can’t know where we left to. Court order took him away and will hold him off for a while though.”
“I’m sorry.” I said in a quiet voice.
“Not your fault. It’s no one’s fault Mary.”
“Well, I hope you know it isn’t yours for sure.”
“I know that.” He told me, “And I can’t lie. I’m kind of glad I get to be here now.”
“How come?” I asked him.
“How else could I have met you?”
***

We fell in love eventually, just like every other love story as you know. Taking those special walks down that way until it turned into a river each year and kissing on moonlight nights were just part of the fun of knowing Lucas. Once we were twenty five we decided it was time to marry, or he did anyways.
He kneeled down in the middle of the path one night and asked as simply as possible, “Will you marry me?”
All I had to say was, “Yes, please.”
Years flew by like days and before I knew it we had kids, our kids had kids, and we were sitting on the porch in those old rocking chairs that you read about in western books.
“Do you love me?” Lucas asks me as I rock back and forth in my rickety chair that is on the verge of falling apart.
“Does Ginny have major attitude issues?” I asked back at him and his laugh came up into the air like that cool coming winter breeze did the first day I ever met him. The only difference being that this breeze was warm and delightful when the winter breeze was cold and mourning autumn.
“You sound like a Gieco commercial.” He tells me and now it is my turn to laugh. “I’m going to go get some water. Would you like a glass?” he asks me with sparkling eyes. We may be old, but we act as if we were still sixteen and eighteen. Like when we met.
“I’d love a glass.”
Lucas heads into the house in search of water and I sit where I have for the last few years of my aging.
That’s when I hear it, a distant yell from far away. “Mary.” It whispers in a syrupy tone and then it gets louder, “Mary” it says, and then yells, then shrieks, and then finally it is right above my head. “MARY BURNS!”

My eyes fling open and Mrs. Cardigan is standing above me with hands on her hips. I look up to her face that scowls hatefully down on me.
“How dare you fall asleep in my class!” she screams “It is one thing to day dream, but Mary…”
A dream that is all Lucas was.
An overspun dream on nothing but the weather that lies behind our sophomore class window.
“Mary, are you listening?” She asks me as I drift off into almost nowhere.
“Yes.” I answer in a lying tone.

I start my regular walk home from school. I can’t believe it was all a dream. It couldn’t have been, he was so real and so unbelievably amazing. A tingle of home sickness hits the pit of my stomach, I miss him. I miss Lucas, so much. Then I remember that he was just a dream. I continue to take my usual route home, deciding that Lucas is all a dream and will remain just that.

A cold wind pricks at my face. Winter is coming soon, I can feel it. I continue to walk my way home along the slim piece of sidewalk that I have. Dusty red and yellow leaves crunch under my feet with each step, a distant cry for another dying autumn I think to myself. My dark brown hair flicks every which way as the wind remains to blow harder with each gust. Dust creeps up under my eyelashes, getting into my brown eyes and as I try to blink them away a tear falls. I swipe it away as fast as I possibly can when I hear footsteps heading in my direction.
When I look up he is the same Lucas I met from the beginning. He’s at least eighteen. His hair is a shining sandy brown and a smile comes to his face when his electric green eyes look up at to the fall leaves. Freckles play along his nose and cheeks like notes on a music staff. The only difference is that I know who he is this time, and I don’t have to imagine. I know he likes to play guitar and eat ginger bread on Christmas Eve while his mother reads ‘The Night Before Christmas’ to him and his little sister. I know his favorite color isn’t maroon red because he can never wear it without it looking weird clashed together with his freckles, but he still enjoys looking at the autumn leaves that come of that color.

I know that I might have a chance for him talking to a girl like me.
“Hi.” He whispers. His voice is still deep and still reminds me of wool like it always has.
“Hello.” I say back to him and he smiles that forever shining smile.
“You dropped this by my house the other day,” he holds out the note. “Sorry to seem like such a creeper. I just didn’t know if this meant anything to you.” I take the paper and hold it in a tightened fist. “I’m Lucas.”
“I know.” I mumble. And hold out a hand.
“What?” he asks, eyebrows crunching together and eyes enlightened.
“I’m Mary.”
“Nice to meet you Mary.” He says and my cheeks still turn red like they did the first time.
“Nice to meet you too, Lucas.” I say, exactly as I did before.

And then that something that I have never forgotten happens for a second time. Lucas just walks away, and I let him. I would chase after him as fast as humanly possible, tell him my story, wait no OUR story. I would tell him about our kids and our house on the suburban block and our rocking chairs. I would tell him about the way he purposed and our first kiss. I would tell him about how we fell in love.
I would do all of this, you see, but I have a feeling that I will be seeing him tomorrow.